


Before the Storm

by Marasa



Category: Survivor (US TV) RPF
Genre: A tad bit shippier than I intended but that’s okay, Angst, Cuddling, Cute, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, Spooning, jalapao three - Freeform, naps, rainstorm, soft, tocantins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: The end was near.
Relationships: Jalapao Three
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I’m surprised there isn’t more fic about the Jalapao Three or even Stephen and JT. Jalapao Three are best three.

The end was near. 

He could see it now. It was only a few days away and quickly approaching. JT could see the money and the live audience but he could not see the stage he stood upon, could not see clearly who was accompanying him.

There would only two seats at the end. Hopefully he would be in one of them. And for the person who would be in the seat beside his— it hurt too much to think about right now.

He was also much too tired to even crunch the numbers. He’d just woken up from his nap and upon blinking awake, JT’s first thought had been of just how warm Stephen was. Stephen was always warm, funny considering just how slender he was. His long legs were currently plastered to the back of JT’s beneath their shared blanket, a thin and scratchy scrap of burlap fabric they wished offered some true semblance of warmth. 

Sleep had been harder recently. 

There had been times Stephen would jolt awake in the middle of the night or near the break of dawn and fist a hand tightly in JT’s dirtied shirt, tugging clumsily in his half-asleep stupor. JT would bolt awake like the light sleeper he was and turn to the one who had a hold on him. Stephen would be looking back at him appearing stoically fine, only then for tears to swell at the corners of his brown eyes. The peculiar thing was, Stephen’s groggy expression wouldn’t ever change when this happened. It was as if his own emotions, his vulnerability, had snuck up on him without himself even realizing it.

“Stephen.” JT’s whispered response would be raspy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” Stephen would whisper back.

“‘Bout what?”

Stephen never did answer. Maybe it was about the game. Maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t really matter; he was misty-eyed anyway and awake at some god-forsaken time of early morning.

JT’s answer was always the same. He’d sigh deeply, let his eyes fall closed and he’d place a hand over Stephen’s where it lay over his steadily beating heart or he would loosely grip Stephen’s wrist or slide his hand into the warmth of his sweater sleeve and thread his fingers through the light dust of hair over Stephen’s forearm. 

“All right, all right,” JT would soothe. “It’s over now.”

No matter how shaken up Stephen was, he’d nod off again sooner than JT would. Something like guilt always stuck around after those times Stephen would wake up. This feeling had hit JT particularly hard last night as he became increasingly convinced that perhaps Stephen never told him what plagued his sleeping mind because in all actuality it was something JT-shaped holding aloft Stephen’s safety in this game, the million dollars, victory.

JT had been lost in repetitive thought long after Stephen’s breath fanned shallowly against his shoulder, Stephen’s hand limp beneath the anxious stroking of JT’s thumb as still night became cloudy day. 

The lack of sleep was catching up to him now. A storm was rolling in around what must have been noon, though he couldn’t be sure; they had yet to see the sun today. It was trapped somewhere behind a heavy wall of black clouds. The camp was cast in a cool, dark shade that had quickly lulled JT to sleep in the shelter and which brought Stephen in close behind him for body heat. Stephen could never fight the placid stillness before the rain. He had slipped into sleep, his cheek pressed against the back of JT’s neck, his slender fingers curled at the shallow dip of JT’s waist. 

JT was awake now just in time to hear thunder rumble distantly. A cold wind swept across the dusty ground and into the shelter. JT prayed the tarp could take what would surely be a thorough beating in the coming half hour. 

Taj was standing closeby, another blanket like a shawl drawn around her shoulders. Erinn was absent, somewhere else unseen. JT didn’t know, didn’t care.

“It’s almost here,” Taj said as she turned to him, looking a little nervous. How had she known he was awake, JT thought but then found that a stupid question. JT could be all the way over by the river and still somehow feel Stephen back at camp burn his fingers on the pot of rice or feel whenever Taj stubbed her toe on a rock. It was a ghostly tug at the very core of his being and he’d turn away from the fish nibbling at his fishing hook and peer in what must have been their general direction, dirty fingernails scratching idly at the spot just under his heart as he did so.

“Yeah, I hear it.” JT yawned. “We’ll be okay. We added to the roof not too long ago.”

Taj came over and sat on the edge of the shelter by his head. She looked out at the murky horizon, looked down at JT. “Compliments of the man himself. I knew Coach was good for something.”

They laughed lightly together.

If there was some way Stephen was a third of JT’s heart, then Taj was another. He couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened but these two had infiltrated his chest and set up residency, and thing was, JT didn’t want them to leave. 

He might have enjoyed these last few and fleeting days of the game then if only Erinn wasn’t here. JT only ever wanted it to be them three and if they were alone, they would probably be living in momentary paradise without anyone around who didn’t “get” them or who didn’t truly understand what their connection was. 

“Just a few more days and you won’t ever have to sleep in the rain again,” Taj said.

“I never thought it’d be like this,” JT said. “The rain and the heat and a bed like this, no real pillows or blankets or anything. Well, that’s not true; I knew it would be like this but didn’t think it’d feel quite like this. It feels different being in it rather than just imagining it. If that makes sense, I dunno.” He chuckled. “I’m still half asleep.”

“Was it worse than you thought? Do you regret it?”

“Regret it? Hell no. I don’t regret a single second.”

“Well all I can say is put up with the lack of bedding for a little bit longer. It’s not worth a million dollars.”

JT smiled. “Nah, I just like complainin’.”

Taj squeezed JT’s cheeks so his lips pouted out. Stephen yawned against JT’s shoulderblade, shifted with a sleepy snuffle and slid his hand forward so it was resting on JT’s stomach. 

“Taj.” JT’s voice was hushed. Weak, maybe.

“Hm?”

“Why can’t it be just us three?”

There was a pause of sad consideration and then a roar of thunder—louder this time—erased the tranquility. 

“Because that’s not how it works.” Taj brushed a piece of hair off of JT’s forehead with a bittersweet expression. “Are you good on water? I’m gonna go fill mine up before the storm hits.”

JT assured Taj he was fine but asked her to take Stephen’s canteen.

“He’ll be thirsty when he wakes up and I don’t wan’ him drinking all of mine.” Taj gave a short laugh, sounding amused but still she raised an eyebrow at him. JT groaned, turning his face into the flat pillow beneath his head. “Taj, I swear I’m not that bad.”

“No, you just don’t like to share. I get it.” 

She was just teasing him, being playful, but JT felt even a small comment like that was confirmation that he might be turning into someone he wouldn’t recognize. He sighed out of his nostrils, tilted his head back until he felt Stephen’s bump lightly against his. “The only ones I  _ will _ share with are you two. I’d give anything for the both of you. All you’d have to do is ask. You know that.”

“I know,” Taj said softly and she smiled at him like she believed it.

Lightning flashed brightly across the sky. The wind against JT’s face nipped at his nose, cold and damp. He brought the edge of the blanket up over the bottom half of his face and waited for sleep to take him before the storm did, before he started thinking too much, before time ticked on till it was finally finale night.

Until then JT watched the approaching storm with anxious anticipation and his hand drifted beneath the blanket to rest over Stephen’s and hold him there, just a little bit longer. 


End file.
